The Doctor's Odyssey
by Samuel Marks
Summary: Doctor Who? Clara is beginning to accept that she might never get an answer to that question. But that's okay, because there's something else she's been meaning to ask. As the TARDIS orbits an explosive star, the Doctor reveals one of his greatest secrets. (This was a story written to celebrate the 50th Anniversary of Doctor Who.) Enjoy!


The Doctor's Odyssey

"Nothing!" squeaked Clara Oswald, as the Doctor strolled back into the console room from the rest of the ship, fastening a new bow tie around his neck. The previous one had ended up a midday snack for a rather angry creature, which had upset the Doctor greatly.

But the sadness at the death of a beloved bow tie had vanished from his face, and had now, as he stood before Clara, been replaced by confusion.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Clara let a nervous laugh slip out. "Like I said, nothing."

A few beeps sounded from within the TARDIS console.

A wry smile appeared on the Doctor's face. "Ah, I see. Thanks for filling me in, dear." To Clara he said, "I'm glad you two have made friends."

Clara was glad too. The Doctor thought the world of his TARDIS, so she wanted the time ship to like her as well. "We've had a heart-to-heart."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed and he said, "Doesn't explain why you were so shifty when I walked in on you two just now. What exactly were you talking about?"

"What else?" Clara said. "You, of course."

"Me?"

"Of course."

"_Me_?" repeated the Doctor.

_Beep-beep_, the TARDIS replied.

"I reckon," said Clara, "you only take me on these mad, ridiculous adventures to sort of... distract me. You know, to keep me asking all the _wrong_ questions like, _Where are we, Doctor? What's that thing trying to eat us, Doctor?"_

The Doctor fiddled with his bow tie and said, "I don't understand, Clara... What do you think are the _right_ questions, then?"

"Everything about_ you_," said Clara, with a smirk. "That's what we've been gossiping about, your 'old girl' and me. Who exactly are you?"

The Doctor pressed a finger to his lips, and Clara nodded, understanding enough. It was a secret, she knew that, and always would be.

"Okay," she said, moving around the console closer to him, chasing him, closing in on him. "Maybe I'll stop asking _who_... But there's loads of other questions, that's what we were just saying."

"Like what?" said the Doctor, scurrying away from her.

"Like, you know, where exactly are we going?"

"Anywhere," he replied. "Hopefully, eventually, everywhere."

He pulled the scanner closer and said, "Right now we're orbiting a fluctuating star in the Rainbow Nebula. When that goes _kaboom_ in about, ooh, nine and a half minutes, we'll be thrown across the universe in any direction and could end up anywhere in all of time and space."

"And after that?"

The Doctor absent-mindedly threw a lever. "We could, oh I don't know, get temporary superpowers on the planet Radion Minima. Or we could visit the Devil's Rock, which is actually far nicer than it sounds. Or maybe go and see my old buddy George Orwell."

"And after _that_?" Clara pressed, undeterred.

The Doctor folded his arms and studied her closely. "What exactly are you getting at, Clara? Tell me what you want me to say and I'll say it, and then we can get back to that sort of awkward, sexually-charged silence that I've grown strangely fond of."

"I _want_," insisted Clara, "for you to tell me where we're actually going. You know, finally. Ultimately. What's our final destination, in the end? Because I get the feeling that all these little adventures of ours are detours, distractions, deviations from where we're _really_ trying to get to."

A smile crept out across the Doctor's face. "You're a smart one, Clara. Very smart indeed. That's incredibly annoying."

"I know," she chirped. "So just tell me and then I'll shut up. Possibly."

"You _really_ want to know? Are you sure? Are you sure you're sure?"

Clara nodded. The Doctor pressed a few more buttons on the TARDIS console, and the scanner screen changed again, and now showed a mass of swirling, twirling Gallifreyan symbols. She hoped the Doctor would offer some translation, but he only said one word.

He said, "Ithaca."

"Ithaca?" Clara echoed. "What's that, a planet? A name? Is it another woman? Are we only our way to see your secret mistress or something? River's going to kill you. Literally, I think."

"She really would kill me," the Doctor said. "Again. But, Clara, that's not what Ithaca is. It's a poem."

With a flick of a switch, the Gallifreyan symbols leapt around the screen and began to dissolve into letters that Clara could read. She peered closer at the poem that appeared...

_Ithaca_ by Constantine P. Cavafy

When she'd finished reading a short time later, she looked over at the Doctor and said warily, "I bet that wasn't even relevant, was it? Were you just trying to shut me up for a few minutes by making me read some boring old poem?"

"Ended up being a few minutes longer than I'd imagined," the Doctor replied. "How _slow_ do you read?"

"I was taking it all in," she countered. "Absorbing the tone and the feel and the essence and the meaning of it but oh god please don't ask me what it's about because I haven't got a clue," she finished hurriedly.

The Doctor laughed, then said, "It doesn't matter. Maybe it means nothing at all. But it's a lovely poem, isn't it? One of my favourites." He stared off into the distance, deep in thought.

"Yes, Clara, we _are_ going somewhere, ultimately," the Doctor went on quietly, almost in a whisper. "Not even the TARDIS knows where it is, no matter how many times she asks me. And believe me, the old girl asks a _lot._" He leaned in closer and said, "I've never even told anyone this before. You're the first to know, in nine-hundred years."

Clara allowed herself a smile. "Really?" Excitedly, she said, "So what are we waiting for? Let's go already."

The Doctor shook his head. "No. Not now. Not yet."

Clara bowed her head. "Nine-hundred years," she considered. "So many people you've been with, and none of them have seen this place you want to get to... I'm never going to see it, am I? You'll do so much without me, just like you've done so much before..."

The Doctor reached out and took hold of her hand. "Clara..." When she looked up at him, he wiped away a single tear that rolled down her cheek. "Clara, don't cry."

She couldn't help it. "I hope you get there someday," she said.

He replied, "Didn't you read the poem, Clara? Where I'm going... That's not even what matters, really, in the end. It's the journey itself, the adventures on the way. What you called detours and distractions... They're not that at all. They're _everything_."

Clara stared deep into the Doctor's eyes. One more secret had been uncovered, at least partially, possibly, but she had no doubt that a thousand more remained. Maybe, she considered, it was better not to know the answers.

The TARDIS interrupted the moment as the heavy tolling of the Cloister Bell echoed around the console room. The poem faded away, and instead the screen now showed an exterior view of the TARDIS, and the shimmering star that the little blue box was circling.

The ancient star began to pulsate with light, and Clara almost looked away as it began to grow pale and dim, like after all this time, after so many years, all the energy was beginning to fade...

But then there was a huge explosion of light unlike anything Clara had ever seen before, and lights of a thousand colours filled the screen, and she couldn't look away now, and didn't think she ever wanted to.

"Brace yourself!" the Doctor cried.

Clara took hold of the console as the TARDIS started to shake and tip. "You really have no idea where we'll end up?"

The Doctor laughed wildly. "Not a clue! Could be anywhere!"

"Anywhere _except_ where we're trying to get to," Clara said, smiling.

The Doctor mirrored her smile, and his eyes twinkled. "Of course."

They flew off into the future, and the star burned brighter than ever.


End file.
